


fy nghyfaill

by winterstars



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 18:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3780115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstars/pseuds/winterstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew Ianto properly. I've worked with him for years. We were a team."</p>
            </blockquote>





	fy nghyfaill

They sat and talked together in Welsh sometimes. He leaned against her desk, coffee in hand, while she sorted through her paperwork. They chatted about the weather, or their families, or told jokes, amazingly ordinary things compared to their life of fighting aliens. It was worth struggling to speak in a tongue that neither of them were used to, to see the frustration on Jack’s face as he tried to figure out what they were saying, no doubt assuming that it was about him. (“Honestly,” she scoffed at him, “you've lived here over a century and you haven’t even bothered to learn the language?”)

And the simple conversations were nice, Gwen thought - easier than talking to Jack, or even Rhys. With Owen and Tosh gone and Jack shut up in his office half the time the hub seemed too large and empty, like a tree stripped bare in winter. The slap of water on stone echoed too loudly and shadows loomed and flickered across the walls. But whenever he said something in his soft voice and she flashed a gap-toothed grin back at him, it almost seemed like a home again.

“Oi, you two, stop gossiping and get back to work!” an American voice called down from above soon enough, dragging them back to reality.

Ianto rolled his eyes, setting his empty cup down on the edge of her desk. “Galwadau ddyletswydd.”

She swiveled on her chair to face him, “Fynd ar wedyn,” she smiled, straightening his tie.

**. . .**

She sits quietly at the back of the church, alone because Rhys has work and Jack is never there when she needs him.  The place echoes as much as the hub ~~does~~ did, too wide and high for the little gathering of people she doesn't know. She can’t bear to meet Rhiannon’s eyes, their last conversation still echoing in her mind.

_“If Ianto gave you that old shit, then you didn't know him at all.”_

One by one they all stand up at the altar and tell stories about the ordinary life of a man she barely recognizes as her friend. Her Ianto chased monsters down dark alleyways with her. He sat beside her, smiling gently despite the blood running down his face, as Own patched them both up after a fight. He was a survivor, with bright blue eyes and more heart that the rest of them put together. But most of all, he was her friend, and as she sits here she feels like a stranger, listening to all the things about him that he never told her, that she never asked.

Maybe their little chats didn't mean much after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any mistakes with the Welsh - I don't know the language, I just googled it.  
> 


End file.
